


Remains

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Other Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-05
Updated: 2006-03-05
Packaged: 2018-08-16 00:50:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8080273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Enterprise is finally going home, but there's no such thing as a truly happy ending. Reed/m. (06/07/2004)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Spoilers, 3.23 "Countdown," 3.24 "Zero Hour."  
  
This is my entry into the maco_love fic-a-thon! The actual deadline isn't until July 1, but since I'm going away for two months on Thursday, I wanted to get this finished ASAP. I hope Gigi doesn't mind. :->  
  
This story also includes references to my earlier fics "Coda," and "Something to Ease the Loneliness," which you can find at the Warp 5 Complex Fiction Archive, or on my part of the wonderful coffeeslash site.  
  
Beta: Sarah Bewley, who is far kinder than I probably deserve.  


* * *

"Malcolm!"

Joshua Kemper was standing instantly, ignoring Liz Cutler's hand on his shoulder, trying to force him back onto the bio bed. He wanted to shrug her off, but moving his shoulder hurt. He settled for staying still, or attempted to, but it was like his body wouldn't listen. He felt electric with tension, the need to go to Malcolm, to touch him, prove to his stuttering heart that the man he loved was still alive. His muscles were twitching with it, nerves humming like pain.

"Sit down, Sergeant," Cutler said, "or I swear to God I'm going to sedate you." She was almost laughing, though, despite her words. The whole crew had been like that, since Acting Captain T'Pol's announcement—a strange, uncomfortable mixture of relief and grieving. Captain Archer was dead, but the Expanse had been destroyed. And Earth was safe. They'd won. They could go home.

Malcolm Reed had his arm around Hoshi Sato's waist, and she was leaning heavily against him. He glanced over sharply as soon as he heard his name, and Joshua saw concern flash through his eyes when the lieutenant saw him.

"I'm fine," Joshua said quickly, and Malcolm nodded. Joshua was surprised at how relieved Malcolm looked, hearing it, and then found himself blushing for no reason he could name.

Malcolm gave Joshua a brief, genuine smile before he turned his attention back to Sato. She looked like death warmed over, gray and sick. Ari Cohn and Malcolm helped her onto a bio bed, Phlox hovering nearby with his scanner, and she gave them both a tremulous smile as she lay down. She obviously wasn't anywhere near 'fine,' the way Malcolm had said she was before he left to destroy the weapon, but Joshua could understand why Malcolm had lied to him. What good would it have done him, after all, to know how bad off she'd been? Bad enough that he'd forced Malcolm to tell him about Matthew.

Almost involuntarily, Joshua glanced at the palm of his left hand. The tiny cut he'd made with Nathan's knife was barely visible, and he couldn't even feel it unless he did something that pulled the skin. But he remembered making it, remembered why he'd wanted to.

No, knowing about Matthew hadn't done him any good at all.

"You won't be 'fine,' in a second, Sergeant," Cutler said. She sounded truly exasperated now, though the threat didn't have much force to it. "Sit the hell down so I can finish with your back."

"Sorry," Joshua muttered. He sat back on the bio bed, but he never took his eyes from Malcolm.

Malcolm was leaning over Sato, speaking softly to her and holding her hand. Phlox and Cohn were waiting patiently; Cohn's hand was holding the privacy curtain, ready to pull it around the bio bed. Something Malcolm said made the ensign laugh, though it didn't last long. He kissed her forehead and straightened up, only then letting go of her hand.

And he came right over to Joshua's bio bed.

"Sergeant," he said. His voice was formally polite, but his eyes kept flicking to Liz Cutler, running a dermal regenerator over the skin of Joshua's back. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, sir," Joshua said. "Really," he added at Malcolm's raised eyebrow. "The anomaly field surrounding Sphere 41 caused bad skin lesions, like cracks," he explained. He lifted his hands, bending them so Malcolm could see the few cracks left on the skin. "Like that. They're almost gone, though."

Malcolm took one of Joshua's hands. Just lightly, barely touching it. He gently tipped Joshua's hand from side to side, examining. "I see," he said quietly. "I saw marks like these on the Commander and Acting Captain." He looked up again, meeting Joshua's face. Malcolm's eyes were like dark fire. "I had been wondering if the anomaly caused them."

"They did," Joshua said. His throat felt thick, and he swallowed as he reluctantly pulled his hand back. God, but he wanted to grab Malcolm to him, kiss him until they were both gasping. It still seemed impossible that Malcolm could be standing _right there,_ whole and safe and alive.

Joshua's hands were shaking, and he clasped them together in his lap.

"My back hadn't completely healed yet," Joshua said. He'd almost forgotten what he'd been talking about. "...So when the skin cracked, it started bleeding." He shrugged, then wished he hadn't when the movement stretched his skin.

"Keep still," Cutler said.

"Sorry," Joshua said automatically. "Money had it worse than I did," he continued. "Phlox had to use his eel on her. And Parsons got his bell rung by the Sphere aliens, but they'll both be fine."

"That's good to hear," Malcolm said sincerely.

"Thank you, sir," Joshua said. "Money was hit badly by Corporal Forbes not making it back, though," he added quietly. "They were good friends."

Malcolm nodded, took a small breath. "How are you?"

"I'm okay, sir," Joshua said, knowing what Malcolm was asking. He had barely known Forbes. For once he was grateful for that.

"I'm glad," Malcolm said. He glanced at Cutler, then stepped a little closer, lowering his voice. "It's good to see you," he said. The expression in his eyes almost made Joshua gasp.

Joshua had to swallow before he spoke. "You too." He meant it more than anything.

A second later, Malcolm stepped back, distant and completely Starfleet again. He turned to Cutler. "Thank you for patching him up, Ensign," he said. "I'm sure the other MACOs will be pleased to have him back in one piece. Let me know if he gives you any more trouble."

"Oh, absolutely, sir," Cutler said.

Joshua couldn't see her expression, since she was still standing behind him, but whatever it was made Malcolm laugh.

"I'll see you later, Sergeant," Malcolm said. He put his hand on Joshua's shoulder, like a promise. Joshua felt the warmth of it all the way to his bones.

"Thank you, sir," Joshua said. "I'm glad you're all right, too." He was able to make his voice casual, but he tried to show what he meant in his eyes, hoping Malcolm would understand.

Malcolm nodded, gave Joshua a brief smile. Joshua watched him all the way out of sickbay.

* * *

Less than a day, T'Pol had said. Less than a day riding in the Aquatic Xindi's ship and they'd be home.

Joshua kept rolling that thought over and over in his mind, scarcely able to believe it. _Home._ After all these months, after everything they'd been through. It seemed too easy, almost, like some kind of dream.

Earth was still there, still waiting for them.

He was lying on his bunk in his quarters, where Cutler had sent him—in no uncertain terms—to rest, give his back a chance to finish healing. He was shirtless, lying on his stomach with his head on his crossed arms. His back itched, but she'd smeared some kind of ointment on it, so it wasn't so bad.

He'd set his computer to play random songs from Gi Squared, Cordelia's Sisters, and Shy Shy. That was partially because there was still a hole in the wall of his billet. Some engineering crewmen had soldered up a sheet of metal to replace the blanket, but he could still hear everything that went on in the corridor, and vice-versa. He'd started using music to give at least the illusion of privacy.

He'd also been hoping that if he concentrated on the songs, he wouldn't have to think. But so far that wasn't working.

He missed Malcolm terribly, which was stupid, because the lieutenant was on the ship. He was safe, nothing else could happen to him. It didn't matter—Joshua ached, from wanting to be with him.

He eyed the comm over his bed. He could call the lieutenant: make up some reason to see him. He didn't even think Malcolm would mind. Joshua was sick of being patient, sick of waiting.

He was sitting up when the chime on his door sounded. "Come in!" Joshua nearly shouted it, but he didn't care. He knew who it was; there was only one person it could be.

Malcolm Reed walked in when the door opened.

Joshua was across the room instantly. He had his arms wrapped around the lieutenant before the door had finished closing behind him. He held Malcolm fiercely, kissing him so hard their teeth met with a click.

Malcolm returned the kiss with equal intensity. He held the back of Joshua's head, pulling Joshua even closer to him. When they finally broke apart they were both panting.

"God, I missed you," Malcolm said. His voice was rough.

"Me too," Joshua said. "Me too." He still had Malcolm tight in his arms.

Malcolm kissed him again, hard and brief. When he pulled back his eyes were smoldering, his arousal a press of heat against Joshua's own. He gestured at the cot with his chin. "I want you on the bed."

Joshua nodded mutely, walking quickly to the bed. He stripped off his pants and briefs, then sat on the mattress and watched Malcolm undress. He couldn't believe how many layers fleeters needed for their uniforms—it felt like forever before Malcolm was naked and beside him.

Joshua grinned, pushed Malcolm's shoulder to make him lie on his back. Joshua straddled him, bent arms on either side of Malcolm's shoulders. He leaned forward, kissing him, sucking Malcolm's tongue into his mouth. He shivered in pleasure as their cocks touched and rubbed. He began rocking their bodies together, wanting more of it.

Malcolm groaned into the kiss, arching up to thrust against Joshua's body. He put his hands on Joshua's hips, holding him steady as they moved.

Joshua's arms were trembling, his blood surging like waves. He bent his elbows until he was nearly lying on Malcolm. He nuzzled Malcolm's head to the side, pulled Malcolm's earlobe into his mouth. He heard Malcolm hiss as he began sucking, felt Malcolm bucking against him.

Malcolm came with a gasp, throwing his head back and shuddering. Joshua felt Malcolm's come streaking his belly, warm and wet as he moved. He pressed his cock harder against Malcolm's sweat-slick pelvis. He was so close...

His orgasm roared through him, so intense it was almost painful. He collapsed onto Malcolm, burying his face against the other man's neck. His body twitched in tiny, involuntary jerks with the last spasms of pleasure.

Joshua rolled off Malcolm as soon as he could control his limbs again, lying on his side. He propped his head up on one hand, and put the other on Malcolm's chest, feeling him breathe. He smiled down at him, at Malcolm's ocean-blue eyes.

Malcolm reached up, cupping Joshua's face. "Joshua," he said.

It said everything.

* * *

"Do you blame me for Matthew dying?"

"What?"

It was a while later—they'd both showered and were each wearing a pair of Joshua's BDU trousers. They were on Joshua's couch, Joshua sitting up and Malcolm leaning against him. Joshua was running his fingers thorough Malcolm's hair, the way the lieutenant liked.

Malcolm had been extremely quiet, until now. Uncharacteristically so. Joshua had assumed it was sorrow over Archer's death; the same stunned relief he was still feeling. He hadn't wanted to pry.

Then, out of nowhere, Malcolm's question. Just hearing Matthew's name hurt, like a cut on Joshua's heart.

Malcolm lifted his head from Joshua's chest, turning to look up at him. His eyes were incredibly sad. "Do you think it's my fault that the major is dead?"

Joshua blinked. He couldn't understand what Malcolm was thinking. "No," he said, meaning it. "I blame the aliens who built the spheres. They fucked up the transporter so he...so he couldn't get back in time." He knew his expression showed how confused he was. "Why?"

"I can't help thinking," Malcolm said softly, "that if I'd been there, I would have been able to do something. Save his life."

Joshua had had thoughts like that—what if he hadn't needed to take Sato back, what if he'd been able to stay, to help. It never did any good. "You had to be on the bridge," he said. "And your being there wouldn't have changed the transporter not working." Malcolm might have died too, if he'd been there. Joshua couldn't even make himself think about that.

"I know," Malcolm said. He took Joshua's hand, twining their fingers. "It's just..." He sighed. "I so badly wish things had been different."

"Me too," Joshua said. He'd lost so many friends.

"Joshua," Malcolm said then, and his voice was suddenly tentative, "can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Joshua said. He shifted on the couch, pulled Malcolm closer to him. He had to wait a long moment for Malcolm to speak.

"If..." Malcolm stopped, swallowing before he started speaking again. "Say that on the rescue mission, you hadn't been the one to transport Hoshi back, you hadn't been shot."

"Okay," Joshua said. He wondered what Malcolm was getting at, what this had to do with his first question.

"So, say it was just you and Matthew. You both could have transported off at once. But, what if he told you to leave him there? That he wanted to sabotage the Xindi ship, but he didn't want to risk your life by helping him. What would you have done?"

_What happened over there, Malcolm? What did Archer make you do_? Joshua didn't answer right away, trying to imagine Malcolm's scenario, make it work in his head. Malcolm had gone completely tense, waiting.

"I would have left him there," Joshua said finally, because it was the truth. "I would have hated it, but I would have done what he ordered me to."

Joshua felt Malcolm relax again, leaning into him. "Thank you," Malcolm whispered.

"Malcolm," Joshua said carefully, "whatever happened over there—you did the right thing. You saved Earth. You have to know that."

Malcolm's voice was bleak. "I left the captain to die."

"Because he ordered you to," Joshua said. Malcolm had already said as much.

But Malcolm didn't answer him.

* * *

They would be within Earth's orbit soon. It had been as good an excuse as any to leave Joshua's quarters. Malcolm had said he'd needed to get changed, needed to go to the bridge. He did, truly—he was already back in his uniform. And he'd go to the bridge as soon as this was done. So he hadn't lied.

He badly wished he could have stayed with Joshua. But it was probably better this way, really. As it was, the MACOs would be redeployed as soon as they reached Earth. Joshua would be gone. Malcolm might as well get used to being alone.

Joshua would be gone. The ache of that was already killing him, despite everything else. It seemed the heart had an infinite capacity for pain.

It was surprisingly easy to find Trip, though Malcolm had honestly thought he would be with T'Pol. The commander was in his quarters, the first place Malcolm had tried. In retrospect, however, it seemed the most likely place—they were in the belly of a giant starship, there was nothing to see through the portholes, no reason to go to a lounge.

"Who is it?" Trip's voice sounded tired, even through the slight distortion of the door comm. Well, no. It wasn't just tired. He sounded worse than that.

"Lieutenant Reed," Malcolm said, steeling himself. He closed his eyes, waiting for the rejection he was certain was coming. Part of him was even hoping for it. It would make things so much easier, after all. It could all end right here; he could just walk away. It wasn't as if he could actually change anything.

The seconds while he waited seemed astonishingly long.

"Come in," Trip said. Yet another surprise, that.

But Malcolm opened the door, and there he was in Trip's room, a place he hadn't imagined to ever be standing in again.

Trip's quarters weren't in too bad a shape, considering. His prized antique diving helmet was badly dented and in need of a polish, but it was on its stand. The shelf over the desk had broken off, and had been put against the wall next to the bed. The bed looked fine.

The desk itself seemed intact, too, and that's where Trip was sitting.

Trip had his arms on the desktop, holding a framed photograph. His face was streaked with tears, and he didn't look up when Malcolm came in. Trip had no problem with showing what he was feeling. It was one of the things Malcolm loved about him.

_Had loved,_ he told himself, thinking of Joshua. Past tense. It was over.

"What do you want, Malcolm?" Trip asked. His voice was weary as death.

"I—" Malcolm stopped. He didn't know what he wanted, why he was there. He moved into an "at-ease" position, taking unconscious comfort in the military formality. "I wanted to...To make sure you were all right," he said.

For a moment Trip just looked at him, his eyes wide and completely incredulous. "You wanted to make sure I'm all right."

"Yes," Malcolm said. He forced himself to keep his eyes on Trip's face, not to stare straight ahead as if he were receiving a reprimand. "I know how close you were to the captain." His heart began pounding, hard and sharp. He clasped his wrists behind his back until they started hurting.

Trip's eyes narrowed, then, his face made ugly with rage. "You know—!" He put the photograph down and stood. Malcolm wasn't much shorter than Trip, but right now he felt Trip towered over him.

"Jon was my best friend," Trip said, speaking with forced calm. "My best friend, Malcolm, and you..." He grimaced, like the thought was painful. "And you think you _know_ how close we were?"

Trip took a step forward, his body coiled with menace, and Malcolm stepped back. He wasn't frightened for his safety—he knew he could pin Trip easily; Malcolm had even broken his arm once. This fear was for something else: something that was beginning to crack inside him, like the remains of the lesions on Trip's face and hands.

"Jon was practically my brother, Malcolm," Trip said, still with that same unnatural calm. Malcolm wished Trip would stop using his name. "My _brother,_ and you think you know how close we were? You think you know _anything_?" Trip blinked, and more tears fell. He swiped at them viciously with the side of his hand.

"I'm sorry," Malcolm said. He had to fight to keep his voice even. His fingers dug into his wrists like spikes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come."

Trip snorted a mirthless laugh. "Y'got that right."

Malcolm gave a single, tiny nod. He turned to go.

"Just one thing, Malcolm," Trip said. His voice was like ice and venom.

Malcolm stopped, turned back to face Trip, waited. His chest was so tight he couldn't speak, wasn't sure how he managed to breathe.

"When Jon went to plant the explosives by himself," Trip said, "just how hard did you try to stop him?"

Malcolm went completely still.

That thing inside him...Malcolm knew what it was now, even as it shattered. It was the reason he had come here tonight, what he had been looking for. What he had wanted all along.

But Archer was dead. And Trip wasn't going to forgive him.

Malcolm felt his hope, his heart, shatter like glass. He couldn't speak. He couldn't say anything at all.

Trip waited for a long time. Then he nodded. "That's what I figured," he said quietly. He looked away, toward the picture on his desk. Malcolm couldn't see who it was, if it was Trip's sister or the captain.

"You know," Trip said, surprisingly gently. "I can't believe I ever loved you."

Malcolm left. Trip's eyes stayed on the photograph, so he didn't see him.


End file.
